


but i never mind (being bitten by ya)

by midzyzen



Series: pocztówka z wwa, lato '19 [5]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: ???? kinda ig, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous Relationships, Friends With Benefits, Light Angst, Lord, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, doyoung's just obsessed with jungwoo, no plot they just ride the tram and kiss?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26812903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midzyzen/pseuds/midzyzen
Summary: "When he’s kissing Jungwoo in Jungwoo’s room, on Jungwoo’s bed, it’s his favourite place in the world."or: late in the night, Doyoung takes Jungwoo back home.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Kim Jungwoo
Series: pocztówka z wwa, lato '19 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1847740
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	but i never mind (being bitten by ya)

**Author's Note:**

> nice nice its very like me to write a #$@^$#% dowoo 3k fic the week of their so-called divorce instead of finishing my 10k wips anyways this doesn't have much of a playlist outside of every taylor swift song released and big chances by super m which might as well be a taylor song given the lyrics. anyways hope you enjoy dowooists life in 2018 was so easy omg
> 
> also, this is technically added to the warsaw summer fics series even though it takes place in winter 2019 but that's just life it's the same universe as my [donghyuck on a motorcycle au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578394) which is much better btw im not always insane

Jungwoo likes to ask stupid questions on the tram ride back home. Mostly because Doyoung isn’t a great conversationalist, maybe because he’s just weird like that. Jungwoo does a lot of weird shit, for the record, Doyoung doesn’t know when it’s genuine or when he does it to keep the quirky brand going. He’s almost embarrassed to say he doesn’t mind it either way.

He doesn’t mind Jungwoo. 

They take the 7 from the university library every Saturday night after it closes at ten. Their mutual friends (friend) has already left by now, because Taeyong goes to the library to do actual work and goes when he’s finished. So does Jungwoo, but he’s a Law student, so there would be enough work to keep him going for much longer. Doyoung comes there to study, obviously, but what takes up most of his time is looking at Jungwoo. Or talking to him on the fifteen minute breaks (their study group operates with the Pomodoro method). 

He certainly doesn’t need to stay as long as he does. But he’ll stay as long as Jungwoo wants, because he gets to take the tram back home with him. They go all the way to the Central Railway Station and then Jungwoo changes to the 17 or 33 which both go to Muranów, he lives in one of the blocks near Pawiak. 

All this is important to Doyoung for several reasons. 

One; Jungwoo and him take, partially, the same tram from school. This means, in the case that their classes would end at the same time, Doyoung could potentially take Jungwoo back home. Their classes don’t end at the same time, however, which is nothing short of a nightmare. Or maybe he’s overdramatic (most likely). Still, Doyoung was raised to harbour the Pollyanna mentality and is capable to find something about everything to be glad about, so he takes the weekly study group sessions. And maybe it might work out in the next term.

Two; although Doyoung doesn’t take the 17, he can wait with Jungwoo on the stop under the guise of it being safer. Jungwoo gave him a weird look the first couple of times, assuring he’s a grown man capable of protecting himself, but Doyoung insisted there’s no harm in waiting together. In reality, while Doyoung very much cares about Jungwoo’s safety, he much more cares about how he looks with the city lights behind him on the tram stop. And he looks insane, there’s no better word for it, it adds gloss to the dark of his hair, chisels his face painted with indifference.

Three; back in World War II, some distant relative of Doyoung’s next-door neighbour who he used to hang out with at the carpet rack on their block back in primary school, was murdered at Pawiak by Nazis for being a Polish-independence fighting communist soldier. Which is tragic, obviously, but Doyoung’s clearly impaired line of logic finds that it’s another thing he shares with Jungwoo. 

In conclusion, they might as well be soulmates.

Jungwoo’s stupid questions for the night take more of a darker turn than usual. Or, dark is the wrong term, just more serious. It’s hilarious to Doyoung, because Jungwoo doesn’t change intonation no matter the context. He asks about the first time Doyoung attended a funeral and his favourite colour with the same emotionless tone. 

“Which parent do you like better?” Jungwoo asks. They’re in the back on the tram, sitting opposite of each other. It’s late and they’re still on Grochów, so there’s no one else besides them. Jungwoo takes advantage of it by putting his legs on the horizontal railing beside the window. He doesn’t look Doyoung in the eyes when they talk, but he listens. 

“Oh, my mom definitely. The worst thing she does is be passive-aggressive,” Doyoung says. “To be fair, I don’t have real beef with my dad either, he just wanted me to do sports in school or whatever.”

“And you didn’t do sports,” Jungwoo guesses.

“Man, yeah, why do you think I signed up for table tennis,” Doyoung refers to the obligatory physical education classes people have to enrol in at university. Normal people take volleyball or football or literally anything else, but not Doyoung, no. 

“Table tennis _is_ a sport,” Jungwoo says. It would be more comforting if Jungwoo’s face wasn’t completely blank and his voice wasn’t this monotone. Still, it’s a very Jungwoo thing and Doyoung likes all things Jungwoo. 

“Easy for you to say, you play _handball_ ,” Doyoung reminds him. “That’s an actual sport and a team one at that.”

“Oh, right,” Jungwoo says. “I hate both my parents.” 

Jungwoo has a habit of that, Doyoung notices, asking him questions and answering them without being asked himself. Maybe it’s because he knows Doyoung wants to know anything about him or maybe it’s because he likes to talk about himself. Or a bit of both. 

“How come?” Doyoung asks.

“My father is an Aries man,” Jungwoo shudders, “which doesn’t go too well with my Pisces outfit. And my mother is a Libra.” He pretends to vomit. 

Doyoung pretends he understood the explanation. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“I hate my father, he has anger issues and now I have anger issues,” Jungwoo sighs. That’s surprisingly true. Jungwoo is rather calm and stoic most of the time, vaguely annoyed every once in a while, but he can get angry, like punching things kind of angry. Doyoung remembers patching up his knuckles last month when the vending machine swallowed his change. He’s not like that to people, though, at least not to Doyoung. “What sign’s your mom?”

“Uh, thirtieth of January?” Doyoung asks. 

“Aquarius, like you,” Jungwoo hums, playing with the zipper of his winter jacket. Novembers get cold, especially late in the night and Doyoung can’t help but pay close attention to how good Jungwoo looks all huddled up. Despite getting cold easily, Jungwoo refuses to wear a hat or anything, because it fucks up his hair. 

He doesn’t like Doyoung’s fingers in his hair either, Doyoung learned when he tried to ruffle it once out of fondness. Wary of respecting Jungwoo’s personal space, he hasn’t tried again.

“What do you, uh, think of Aquariuses?” Doyoung asks, because he really doesn’t have enough self-restraint not to. 

“Aquarius women are really interesting. I’d rather have an Aquarius mother than a Libra one, that’s for sure,” Jungwoo says, completely missing the point. 

“Nice, yeah,” Doyoung says. He walks to the other side of the tram to watch the city unravel when they cross the river, its fuzzy reflection splattered all over the surface of the water. It’s always quite the sight to see. Then he comes back to Jungwoo. 

“What’s your favourite place?” Jungwoo asks.

“Like, in the world, or in the city, or in general—”

“All three. List your favourite places,” Jungwoo tells him. 

“My favourite place is the cinema at the mall,” he means the one next to the Central Railway Station that they pass by every week. They went to see a movie together once over the summer, with Taeyong, Jungwoo’s friend Donghyuck and Doyoung’s friend Jaehyun. It was sci-fi and Doyoung didn’t understand anything that was going on. He leaned over to ask Jungwoo about the plot, but Jungwoo answered that he was just as clueless as Doyoung. They shared popcorn. 

“Why?”

“Because of the fairy lights in the place where you get popcorn,” it’s true, actually. Doyoung loved going to the cinema just for the lights when it opened some twelve years ago, maybe more. In his defence, he was eight and easily impressionable. 

“Ah, right,” Jungwoo says. “The ones on the ceiling?”

“The ones on the ceiling.”

“That’s crazy. You like a place just because of the lights on the ceiling,” Jungwoo says. “Anyways, don’t let me stop you.”

“I like Aleje Jerozolimskie,” Doyoung continues. “From like, the palm tree,” there’s a giant fake palm tree in Warsaw for no reason, “to where Rotunda is.” Rotunda is where they get coffee sometimes, because Jaehyun works there and gives them the employee discount. 

“Why?” Jungwoo repeats, still looking out the window. 

“It feels like a city,” Doyoung says, acknowledging right after it makes no sense outside the comfort his head. “It’s weird to explain.”

“Any more favourite places?”

“That would be it, no,” he tells Jungwoo, who proceeds to ask him about his third favourite Taylor Swift album.

*

Jungwoo likes to make insane offers on the 17 and 33 tram stop, which overlooks the building site of what is, in a few years, going to be the tallest building in Poland. Europe? Doyoung doesn’t remember, but it seems surreal that Warsaw of all places would be home to the tallest building in Europe when it’s, well, Warsaw. He wasn’t surprised about the tallest Jesus statue in the world back when it was revealed to the public, but secular architecture is different. 

“We should make out,” he tells Doyoung. They’re sitting on the bench under the awning at the stop. There’s no one around on either side of the railways, but Doyoung isn’t convinced.

“Here?” He asks Jungwoo, who nods. “Isn’t that a little… risky?” 

“There are no people,” Jungwoo reasons, but he seems impartial to Doyoung’s refusal. 

“Someone could come out,” Doyoung says and, well, Jungwoo doesn’t need reminding that your average person doesn’t want to see two men making out in the current political climate. 

“Us?” Jungwoo asks.

“Huh?”

“Us,” he repeats. “Like, because gay people come out. And we can’t kiss in public because we are gay people. It’s a joke.”

“Ah,” he’s always been one for dark humour, Jungwoo. “Yeah.”

“What if you take me home?” Jungwoo offers instead. “Yuta,” roommate, creepy, naked women calendar in his room, “isn’t home. We can make out at home.”

“That’s fine, yeah,” Doyoung agrees, just as the tram stops at the red light across the street. They move to the edge of the platform and get in. 

*

Jungwoo likes to hold Doyoung’s heart in a chokehold, tight enough to hurt and loose enough to let it live. Regardless of setting.

It’s not the first time they’ve kissed, it’s the second. Or have planned to kiss, they’re still in the tram, Doyoung counting down the stops in his head. The first time was summer, August to be specific. Doyoung remembers the exact day and time, actually, but it’s too embarrassing to share. Jungwoo was at his flat, then, one that he shares with his parents (still). They were both out at work when Jungwoo came over, though, and praise the Lord for that. 

They were sitting at the edge of Doyoung’s twin-sized bed and Jungwoo told him Donghyuck got into a relationship with some guy he’s had a thing for since high school. When Doyoung expressed his excitement, out of courtesy in all fairness, Jungwoo stared him down. 

“This isn’t great,” he told Doyoung. 

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve never had a boyfriend and he’s had boyfriends. And now he gets the ultimate boyfriend,” Jungwoo explained. “I’d be happy for him, but I’m toxic.”

It was the way he was so candid about it that made Doyoung spiral. Open, toxic Jungwoo, who didn’t care about him one bit, he was the perfect guy. He’s still the perfect guy. “You’ve never dated?”

“I’ve dated,” Jungwoo clarified, “but I never had, like, a proper boyfriend. I know why.”

“Why?” Doyoung asked, struggling to find a single reason himself.

“I’m weird,” Jungwoo said. “Like, not the adorable-quirky kind of weird bitch guys like because it’s a project to figure them out. I have a favourite Chemistry activity book.”

Jungwoo was right, there’s not much of him to figure out in the first place, you just need to know how to ask. Doyoung doesn’t care, God, he just likes Jungwoo so much, likes the thought of Jungwoo telling him about the progression of his favourite car brands over the years but with Doyoung’s arms around his waist, because he’s got quite the one-track mind. 

“What’s your favourite Chemistry activity book?” Doyoung asked.

“The Pazdro one, duh,” Jungwoo rolled his eyes. “I nearly had a collapse when I saw all the extra periodic tables. I love periodic tables.”

“Don’t we all,” Doyoung mused, way too preoccupied with Jungwoo’s legs swinging above the ground. It was endearing.

“Am I annoying, Doyoung?” Jungwoo asked him, then, and Doyoung could tell it wasn’t a stupid question because it wasn’t asked on a tram, but instead on his twin-sized bed. So he answered seriously.

“No, not at all to me.”

“And to others?” Jungwoo raised his brow. 

The problem was Jungwoo is annoying to others. Other than Taeyong, none of Doyoung’s friends like Jungwoo. _Rotten vibes_ , Jaehyun explained after the cinema hang out. The guy he was into at the time, and now his boyfriend, Johnny, was quick to agree after meeting Jungwoo himself. _Serial killer vibes,_ Johnny clarified, _like, he was weird as hell for no reason._

Doyoung thinks it’s them not being used to Jungwoo, but in all honesty, it’s not like he didn’t like Jungwoo from the get-go, which ended up in Doyoung becoming obsessed with him maybe two weeks into knowing each other. He doesn’t tell his friends that though, he doesn’t tell them about the tram rides home, he doesn’t tell them about how Jungwoo makes him feel.

“I’m not others,” Doyoung shrugged, because he’s not about to be the bearer of bad news. “To me you’re good.”

“That’s good to know,” Jungwoo thought. “If I’m not that annoying, something else has to be wrong with me. Am I repulsive, Doyoung?”

Doyoung hoped Jungwoo didn’t expect an unbiased answer from a person who spent, _spends_ , every second of the day thinking what it would be like to have him. “No. If people are making you feel like shit about yourself, it’s on them. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Would you kiss me?” Doyoung spluttered at the request, because Jungwoo couldn’t have been serious. He was. “Would you want to kiss me? Like, if we weren’t friends or something.”

“I would, yeah,” Doyoung sucked in air to keep from exploding.

“Do you wanna try?” Jungwoo tilted his head to the side, lips pressed into a thin line. It was all very simple to him, and all much too complicated for Doyoung. Still, Doyoung would rather suffer than disappoint Jungwoo, so he went ahead.

He cupped Jungwoo’s cheek and held his hand, of which he felt a gentle tremor, probably phantom — a projection of his own nervousness. His nose brushed against Jungwoo’s cheek when they kissed and their fingers laced together. Doyoung was conscious not to take it too far, but he forgot to be wary of the time; he got so lost in kissing Jungwoo they only stopped some hours later when Doyoung’s mom rang the intercom.

Jungwoo left sometime after and they never talked about it. Doyoung hoped he made Jungwoo feel loved, or something.

*

Jungwoo likes to lock his cat out from his bedroom when Doyoung comes over, even on normal occasions. When Doyoung asked why a few months back, Jungwoo said she tends to treat people like elaborate scratching posts. He falls victims of that sentiment himself, Yuta doesn’t. Miraculously, the cat loves him.

Jungwoo still loves the cat, though, never mind the unrequited. Doyoung thinks it would be Shakespearian if Yuta developed a crush on him, very _Twelfth Night_. He hates not being able to share that joke with Jungwoo, he’s the insane type to find things like that funny.

“Do you want something to drink?” Jungwoo asks, like any perfect host.

“S’fine,” Doyoung had enough of the pink Monster energy drinks to get him through the day. He takes off his jacket and quickly checks his reflection in the mirror in Jungwoo’s hallway. It would be embarrassing if he looked bad kissing Jungwoo. After making sure he looks presentable and leaving his combat boots on the doormat to keep from getting the floors wet, he follows Jungwoo into the living room.

“You sure? I’m brewing tea,” Jungwoo puts the kettle on and starts adding spoonfuls of chai to the teapot.

Doyoung scans through all the magnets they have on their fridge, wondering which ones are Jungwoo’s and which Yuta’s. Jungwoo brews a mean tea, so he gives in. Doyoung finds himself in acat-free bedroom moments later, Christmas mug in his hands and it warms him up after the late fall commute. Jungwoo only puts the desk lamp on, so it’s almost completely dark.

Jungwoo sets his cup on the bedside table and lies down on the farther side of the bed, which Doyoung interprets as invitation to lie beside him. He’s quite thankful for the opportunity, because the hours of sitting hunched over the library desk already took quite the toll on his poor eighty-year-old adjacent spine.

He can feel Jungwoo shifting to his side to watch him. He tugs on Doyoung’s hand, pulling him so that they’re facing each other. “I’ve waited. Are you gonna kiss me now?” Jungwoo asks, like he has any answer to offer beyond a _yes, please_. Not wanting to sound terribly pathetic, though, Doyoung chooses to just grab him by the waist and kiss him. 

A little too awestruck at how Jungwoo melts into him almost immediately, Doyoung lets himself imagine. That Jungwoo is his, that he’s not one of his whims. That Doyoung gets to make him feel whole like he makes Doyoung feel empty. That it’s more than a mutual exchange of favours, that Jungwoo wants him so bad he can’t breathe. Like Doyoung has always wanted him.

Everything about Jungwoo screams that he’s perfect for Doyoung. The way he talks, the way he doesn’t bother hiding anything about himself, the way he feels pressed against Doyoung’s chest. If they were in Pacific Rim, Jungwoo would be his first drifting choice. Or something, Doyoung’s never watched it, Taeyong just told him about it once.

When he’s kissing Jungwoo in Jungwoo’s room, on Jungwoo’s bed, it’s his favourite place in the world. Doyoung doesn’t need fairy lights on ceilings, when there’s a picture of Jungwoo and his mother on his desk and all of Taylor Swift’s albums on the shelf next to his textbooks. Jungwoo told him once he gets them the day of the release, queues at the Nowy Świat Empik at 5 a.m. with a crowd of middle school girls to make sure he secures the copy and now that’s all Doyoung can think about and he kisses Jungwoo harder, hovering above him because Doyoung wants him all to himself.

It’s well after midnight when Jungwoo pulls away, and Doyoung can tell he’s overstayed his welcome. “Doyoung, I’m tired,” Jungwoo informs. “I want to go to sleep.”

“That’s fine, it’s getting late,” Doyoung lets himself slip by pressing a faint kiss to Jungwoo’s forehead and gets up. He finishes his tea and grabs his phone from the floor, mentally calculating which night buses he can take to get back home.

“I’ll pull out the couch for you,” Jungwoo announces, sitting up.

“Are you sure I can stay?” Doyoung asks out of politeness, taking his mug to the sink to wash it.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Jungwoo replies, already taking out the linen and making the bed (couch?) for him. He does look really tired, doing it. “Do you wanna shower?”

“Uh, in the morning,” Doyoung replies, not wanting to inconvenience Jungwoo any further. He sinks on the mattress, pulling the blanket over him.

“Okay,” Jungwoo says, and to Doyoung’s surprise, he lies down beside him on the couch and lets his heavy eyelids drop. “Goodnight, then.”

“Why don’t you go sleep on the bed?” Doyoung asks.

“I’m not sleeping on the bed when you’re sleeping on the couch,” Jungwoo tells him. “It would be rude.”

“Why can’t we just sleep on your bed, then?” Doyoung grins, because Jungwoo is terribly taking when he doesn’t see things the usual way.

“That’s too personal,” Jungwoo adjusts so that his head is propped comfortably on Doyoung’s arm and his leg is thrown over Doyoung’s hip.

“It’s just me, Jungwoo,” Doyoung breathes out a choked laugh.

“It’s you, that’s why it’s scary,” Jungwoo mumbles, voice muffled by the sleeve of Doyoung’s t-shirt. “Do you not know how scary you are?”

No, Doyoung doesn’t. He’s a 5’10 man with an overbite and permed hair. But Jungwoo looks at him with big eyes, worrying his lip and maybe Doyoung was so focused on his feeling for him that he overlooked Jungwoo’s. Not once did he even take into consideration that Jungwoo might have cared more than he let on.

“I won’t hurt you, I promise,” Doyoung replies.

He feels guilty, but there’s no use dwelling on it. He tucks Jungwoo’s head under his chin, cradling it with his arm. The other sneaks to take Jungwoo’s hand in his like the first time they kissed and the shaking’s still there. Doyoung eases it down with his thumb, and Jungwoo falls asleep in his arms, calmer.

*

In the morning, Jungwoo likes to pretend nothing’s happened, but Doyoung knows he just needs time. And God knows he’s in it for the long run with Jungwoo.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!! 
> 
> [buy me a ko-fi](http://ko-fi.com/joonswig) // talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/neotshy)


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